eniL enO toN
by Alice Indigo Opal
Summary: He became a little bit less himself each time he did it. Each time, he was dulled just a little bit more in thought and action. And yet, he couldn't stop himself. It was his deserving, his punishment to be tortured so. He had to see her. River/the Doctor. A three-part oneshot for all your OTP needs. Experimental line reversal. (Note the title.) Standalone, complete.
1. Part I

**Hullo.**

**This is a oneshot, you could say, but it's sort of fractured. There are three chapters, you see.**

**I'd like to point out that there is a lot of original dialogue stirred into this one, and some of it was intentionally amended to fit my uses. So be aware of that. Um, can you be sued for doing that?**

**Oh, disclaimer, okay. How about this: all characters mentioned and featured in this fic belong to the esteemed BBC, and some of their direct quotations have been used without any permission or guidance whatsoever and have therefore been altered for the author's (my) own purposes.**

**Note: expect some experimental opposites and line-reversal, *_hence the title,* _which is (oh, look!) backwards. Ha. Clever.**

* * *

He became a little bit less himself each time he did it.

Each time, his eyes betrayed just a little bit more of that mysterious sorrow that he is so tight-lipped about. Each time, he became just a little bit greyer, lost just a little bit more colour. Each time, he was drained just a little bit more of his enthusiasm, his optimism. Each time, his hearts were just a little bit heavier, and the weight bearing down on his chest was just a little bit more. Each time, he gave just a little bit more of himself away.

And when he was asked in that cautious voice that everybody used with him just what was wrong, if everything was okay, he had to work just a little bit harder each time to muster a smile that was sincere enough to be convincing.

Each time.

Each time…

Looking for a device to extract himself from the depths of his thoughts, he looked around the console room, considering suddenly how much it's changed. The console, the stairs, the seats, the front doors, and the circle-things that had recently been absent… he loved the circle-things. The thought of their disappearance almost brought tears to his eyes. Oh, the adventures they'd been on.

He touched the console. "You're different, old girl…" he ran a finger along an especially favoured lever, his voice trailing off.

Had he changed, too? He could never really tell. Physicalities, of course, aside, he's always just been _him_ to himself. The Doctor. Always him.

He sighed, rising. He knew that he must get moving, else he might ascend to a better mood. Besides, he told Clara he'd only be a minute or two gone… Oh, wait. Time Lord. TARDIS. _Duh._ He could take as long as he wanted. But then again, things _did _tend to gain an extent of approximation when it came to lengths of time and the Doctor. It was never just what he said it would be.

He practically flew from his seat nonetheless, nabbing his sonic from the console on the way out of the doors.


	2. Part II

Despite the changes of the TARDIS and the Doctor himself, this particular destination never changed, it seemed: dim and gloomy and metallic and memory-ridden…

* * *

_Lights were flashing. River was fidgeting with something rapidly, twisting wires and cables around in her lap. Her actions were urgent._

_ A mechanical voice: "Autodestruct in two minutes…"_

_ The Doctor was lying on the floor, unconscious and handcuffed. He began to come to. He saw her. "Oh, no, no, no, come on, what are you doing? That's my job!" he shouted with a fleeting slur._

_ There was a laugh in her voice. "Oh, and what, I'm not allowed to have a career, I suppose?"_

_ He tugged at his restraints. "Why am I handcuffed—why do you even have handcuffs?"_

_ A suggestive look from River, a cheeky smile, and, "Spoilers."_

_ The Doctor's voice rose, and his desperation was evident. "This is not a joke. Stop this now. It's gonna kill you! … I'd have a chance; you don't have any."_

_ River's voice was as loud as his, but firm and steady. "You don't have a chance, and neither do I!"_

_ He looked at her, his eyes wide, hope draining from him and torment began to boil in an instant as he recognised her determination… It was that stubborn will that paralleled his own once he had made a decision. After that jaw of his was set just so, nothing could move him. And here, River Song, a stranger from his future, was using it against him..._

_ River looked at the computer screen, which read, "AUTO DESTRUCT ENABLED/1:38," and the number was descending. In a softer voice, she said, "I'm timing it for the end of the countdown." The Doctor looked on hopelessly as she explained with rapidity. "There'll be a blip in the command flow. That way it should improve our chances of a clean download."_

_ The Doctor spoke frantically through clenched teeth, his words whispery but loud. "River, please, no!"_

_ Now she was shaking, and her voice was wavering wildly. Tears made her eyes glassy and her throat tight. "Funny things is, this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together, you know I was coming here." River's hands were vibrating with emotion, and the Doctor looked on in fear and dismay of what she was about to say. "… The last time I saw you—the real you—the future you, I mean—you turned up on my doorstep with a new haircut and a suit." River's tears were now choking her. "You took to me to Darillium to see the singing towers." She tried to breathe in vain. "What a night that was!" Slowly, she said, "The towers sang… and you cried, and you wouldn't—"_

_ "Autodestruct in one minute."_

_ "—tell me why. But I suppose you knew it was time. My time." Tears were now blurring the Doctor's vision as well. "Time to come to the Library… You even gave me your screwdriver. That should have been a clue."_

_ The Doctor glanced at the very screwdriver he was yet to give her on the floor, and lunged suddenly for it. It was lying just out of reach, the handcuffs holding him back effectively. He roared in frustration, "Let me do this!"_

_ River was all but sobbing now. "If you die here, it'll mean I'd never met you!"_

_ "Time can be rewritten," the Doctor said fiercely, pleadingly._

_ River shook her head as the seconds ticked away. "Not those times. Not one line, don't you dare... It's _okay,_" she whispered, her voice gentler now. "It's okay; it's not over for you." A tear escaped one eye, hovering lazily, as if unaware of the events occurring around it. "You'll see me again… You've got all of that to come." Strength built in her tone, intensity and passion burning their ways through the dim room. "You and me… Time and space… You watch us run."_

_ The Doctor spoke quietly. "River, you know my name."_

_ "Autodestruct in ten…"_

_ "You whispered my name in my ear."_

_ "Nine…"_

_ River glanced at the countdown and donned the black, thorny, complicated halo of wires she had fashioned for the transference. It may as well have been a noose._

_ "Eight… Seven…"_

_ "There's only one reason I would ever tell anyone my name." The Doctor's voice shook._

_ "Six…"_

_ "There's only one time I could..."_

_ "Five…"_

_ River shushed him forcefully. "Shhh, now!"_

_ "Four… Three…"_

_ Another tear leaked from her eye. "Spoilers," she whispered, smiling, though her pain was obvious._

_ "Two…"_

_ River slammed the two cables in each hand together, throwing her head back as the automated voice said, "One…"_

_ There was a flash of light that was so bright and so blinding that the Doctor could not see River, could not look at her, and he turned his head away. The snapping and gurgling of electricity swept over the room like a storm, and all was white energy._

* * *

The Doctor shuddered violently, drawing his tweed jacket around him. He was cold and sad and alone and angry and hot all at the same time. His shoulders were tight, and he felt something building within him. He thought it might be rage, and self-loathing pricked at his skin. He hadn't been able to save her that night. Hadn't been able to stop her. Hadn't been able to let it be him, let it be him to die, let it be him to save the Library's patrons… He would never forgive himself, he knew.

He tried to focus through the fog that was pea soup in his head. He stood just outside the TARDIS, on hand on her door frame, still looking at the darkish room as his thoughts swirled. His hearts pounded and his mind was so, so loud as he remembered every moment with her, every second with the unruly River Song, who now might as well have just been a tale he'd heard long ago. The woman that saved his life on multiple occasions, and the woman who took it on just one (and incompletely, at that).

He gripped his sonic tightly, feeling a metal edge bite his palm. He crossed the room to where the main computer was, the datacore. He gave it a quick buzz with his screwdriver, and numbers zoomed about the screen like insects in values large and small, stating the number of occupants the Library was currently harbouring. They came and went so quickly that he could barely keep up with it all, but the computer seemed to have no trouble at all with the task. It didn't matter, he knew; they meant nothing to him. He could care less if there were millions of life-forms up there on the surface than if there were none. After all, it wasn't the surface activity he was interested in.

He lifted his sonic to eye-level, examining the glowing green cartridge he had installed laterally prior to his first (second, actually, if you don't count the real first, when so many things had happened) visit to the Library. He slid the input pole into the port on the main database's computer kiosk, gripping the screwdriver firmly. He mashed a button or two. There was an electric jolt, which he'd finally grown used to, and the Doctor was gone.

* * *

**Note: all dialogue between the top two horizontal lines (the flashback) is direct and exact quotation without any alteration at all. All non-dialogue text is my interpretation of the occurrences and actions that took place at the Library.**


	3. Part III

**Note the "The Name of the Doctor" derivations, inexact quotations utilised, and reversed dialogue.**

* * *

She was sitting on the bench in the park, something she seemed to be fond of doing, and watching three children busy themselves on the playground. _Her _children, was the unbidden reminder. His wife's children…

He approached her, as he often did and sat next to her on the bench. She couldn't see him, of course. Or hear him. He was just so temporary, you know. So fleeting a file was he that he could not be recognised by one so permanent as she. He had an expiration date. In about half an hour, actually, he would be zapped back to reality, to the Library's underside. He was a collection of bytes condemned. But that didn't stop him. He used his short amounts of time wisely. His visits to the Library did not an idle man make, and as much as he would like to just sit with her there, hopelessly unseen, unheard, he couldn't resist from the incessant babble he took such delight in. Always, through the rushing of thoughts and the emotional tumult he seemed to be so apt in working himself into, he talked to her endlessly. Sometimes, he even touched her hand or her arm or her knee. More than once, he kissed her on the cheek to say goodbye, touching her neck lightly…

And always, she was unresponsive. Always, she just watched her children, the two that would only ever know the computer and Charlotte Abigail Lux, the child tragedy. Always, he could just feel the cracks inside him widening, large pieces falling away. He was charred and burnt and so brittle inside, and it hurt so much.

And he was angry. At himself, at River, at the Library, at everything. He didn't know why he kept coming here, hadn't yet figured it out; he always just ended up furious…

_Because you deserve it, you bastard. Because you let her die. You let her save you and sacrifice herself. This is your punishment. This is what you deserve._

"They're beautiful, River." He spoke over his convicting thoughts, gesturing to the children. "What are their names, again…? Ella, Charlotte (that's CAL, yeah?), and Josh, was it? ... Joshua? Shame you didn't name him Alonso. I knew a man named Alonso once. Good man, Alonso was. Would have been brilliant, you know, because then you could say…" He stopped himself, his throat tightening. He looked at her as she watched the three virtual children on the playground. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Seems I tell you that every time I see you, eh? Every visit... I'll bet you get tired of hearing that old story, anyway. I'm something of a broken record, I'm sure. Well, I'll just have to tell you something new, then, I suppose." He paused. "Ah! … Well, Clara and I, we, uh—I've mentioned Clara, yeah? Companion, very smallish, she is, sort of pocket-sized… Anyway, we just saw Jim the Fish the other day. Now, I know what you're going to say," he spoke quickly, "and _no_! He is indeed _not_ still building his dam. Surprising, yeah? I thought he'd never finish. But there we were, just last week, at the Dam Opening Ceremony. Ha. Ha ha. That's funny; that was a pun. Did you catch that? Thought of it myself. And aren't I clever! Well, no, actually, that was Jim. He gave a speech, you know, dedicating the dam. He started out with, 'And isn't it nice to finally have this dam thing finished!' and I was just howling; I was in fits." He laughed harder and for longer than he'd meant to, trailing off. "It was delightful, really. I wish you could have been there, Riv. You wouldn't have laughed, though. Just given me a good smack for sanity's sake, some necessary chastising, too…" He let his voice fall away while his thoughts ploughed on, riddled with longing and loss.

He looked at her, then, his face hardening, the smile fading. He said quietly and steadily, "Say something, River Song. Tell me I'm an idiot. Tell me how stupid I am, and that I drive the TARDIS wrong. Tell me I make you mad. Tell me that I dress like your hundred-and-twenty-seven-year-old physics professor." His voice was rising, then, and he began to drift from the realm of rationality. He grasped one of her arms, and still, she looked right through him, her eyes unseeing, constantly fixed on the children across the way. "River, tell me that you hate me. Tell me that you'll call your father in here if I keep telling senseless stories. Tell me that he'll bring his sword. Point your blaster at me. Shake your head and tell me what a ridiculous old man I am." Then he whispered, "River, this kills me." He was shaking now, and his jaw was clenched. His words hissed, sharp and angled. "I can't. Do this," he said slowly. "This hurts so much, River, more than anything, more than I can bear. I just want to _die_, River. I could have saved you; I _should have saved you_!" Acidic tears began to burn their ways down his cheeks. "River, I should have—"

She slapped him them, good and hard, a scowl on her face concretely. Her eyes were locked with his. "Shut up," she whispered, rage wavering her voice.

"R-River, how—" the Doctor stammered, shocked.

"I said, 'shut up.'" Though her chin trembled, her lips barely moved as she spoke, and her eyes blazed with passion. "I told you, Doctor, I _told_ you, _not one single line_. You damned fool. Not one line. Don't you _dare_ regret what happened. It was me; I had to do it." She blinked through the tears that were filling her vision. "I had to do it, Doctor, I…"

The Doctor's eyes were wide, and his mouth took that characteristic "O" shape she was so familiar with. "River, how are you even doing that? I'm not really here…"

River breathed deeply, looking away. "You are always here to me, and I always listen, and I can always see you."

"Then… Then why didn't you speak to me?"

"Because I thought it would hurt too much." She looked at him properly, and the aching in her eyes mirrored his own.

The Doctor tilted his head back, looking at her down his nose. "I believe I could have coped."

"No, I thought it would hurt _me_… And I was right. Look at you, Doctor. Listen to you. You're always here, and I'm always here, too, and I don't even know how to look at you, how to hear you. I've left, and you're here, always, always..."

The Doctor touched her face gently, his thumb catching a tear that had fallen from its perch. "River, my time is running out; I'll be leaving soon, I have to. My file... Never mind that. River, it's hard to leave when you haven't said goodbye," he whispered.

Her voice had lost some of its previous fragility, and was more substantial now. "Then tell me, Doctor, because I don't know. How do I say it?"

He took her hand in his. "There's only one way I'd accept. If you ever loved me, say it like you're going to come back."

She squeezed his hand in response, looking down. Then her eyes met his. "Well, then. See you around, Doctor."

The Doctor nodded. "Till the next time, Professor River Song." He kissed the back of her hand gently.

"Don't wait up," she said. He smiled at her, but he was fighting tooth and nail to keep the tears from his eyes. He stood, turning slightly, but paused when he heard, "Oh, there's one more thing."

"Isn't there always?" He looked at her.

She was no longer trembling, and she took him into her arms for a moment, her head on his shoulder, grounding herself. "Doctor, listen to me. You _listen_ to me, okay?" she whispered into his ear. "You are forgiven. Always and completely forgiven. It was my choice. It was my choice, and you have to forgive yourself like you've forgiven me." She kissed his cheek and looked him in the eye. "It had to be me. _Not one line. _Remember that, you old fool. Not one. Yeah?"

"Yes, River. Yeah." He nodded through tears. "Not one line." He moved to embrace her again, but at that moment, his temporary existence as a file in the Library's datacore expired, and he once again found himself in the dim underground of the Library itself, alone but for his TARDIS.


End file.
